


Shards of my Soul

by Feinth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feinth/pseuds/Feinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry finds a crying and bleeding Draco in the boy's bathroom the last thing he expects is friendship, let alone anything more than that. Somehow their strange relationship beings to bloom in the stress of an oncoming war.</p><p>Rated M for self harm, strong language and eventual lemons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blood was flowing from Draco’s arms. His shaking figured was reflected in the cracked mirror. He hadn’t noticed the figure behind him yet, giving a few more seconds to take in the messy scene.   
Glass shards littered the floor, splattered red. Draco’s wand was lying a few feet from him, abandoned on the floor. The sleeves of his robes had been pushed clumsily round his elbows, threatening to fall down. Harry realised he was avoiding looking at him as much as possible. Him. How could such an arrogant man seem like such a broken child?  
A small whimper echoed out of him. It pained Harry’s heart for a moment, hearing such a pitiful sound. But then he reminded himself that this was Draco and he would not pity him. The sound still manages to make Harry feel uncomfortable though. He turns to leave, but the noise of his feet causes Draco’s head to snap up. His eyes are wild.   
He whirled round, hand groping inside his pocket for a wand which wasn’t there. Harry dived for the wand at the same time as Draco, wrestling him for it. Sensing he’d lost the fight, at least for the moment, Draco pulled back. His weeping arms were cradled against his heaving chest.   
“Give me back my wand, Potter.”  
“Why should I? You look ready to jinx me.”  
Draco’s jaw clenched and the vein in his neck grew a little. He held out an expectant hand, glaring.   
Yeh right, because your death glares always scare me into submission.  
He let out an irritated growl and stepped forward. For a moment it looks like he got caught on his robes as he starts to fall, but by the time he hits the floor it is obvious he couldn’t support himself.   
“Malfoy? Malfoy, you alright?” There is no response. Leaning closer than Harry had ever dared before, he pressed two fingers to the pale neck. Malfoy’s skin was cold and clammy and his pulse a weak effort beneath it.  
.  
.  
The light against his face was painful. Draco slowly opened his eyes, squinting. He was lying in the medical wing, though how he had gotten there he wasn’t quite sure. Trying to sit up, he was hit by a wave of dizzying nausea and vomited over the side of the bed. Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out.   
“Lie back down you foolish boy, all that blood you’ve lost will leave you feeling dizzy for some time.” She muttered a scourgify spell under her breath to clean up the sick. Draco felt too weak to insult the woman as he usually would.   
Turning his head to the side he saw his Hawthorne wand on the little table. A vague image of it being clenched in Potter’s hand drifted into his mind. That single image acted like a flood gate being opened. He remembered yelling at that ghost, moaning Myrtle, who had been crooning at him. He had punched the mirror in frustration, pulling the shards out of their frame. And then he had… he had… Why had he done it?   
He thought he was in shit before, but now he realised he was really doomed. Dumbledore would be here soon, asking questions he couldn’t answer. No doubt Potter had already ran to him, telling him of Draco’s failure. Because that was what this really was, wasn’t it. Failure.   
Another one to add to the growing list.   
I shouldn’t have stopped. It would have been a less painful death than the Dark Lord has planned for me at least.  
The door to the infirmary swung open. A head of greasy hair strode in. Professor Snape looked down at Draco from the foot of his bed.   
“You idiot child. What were you thinking?” Snape practically hissed at Draco. “Or let me guess, you weren’t thinking?”   
Idiot child and foolish boy? There is defiantly a pattern here.  
Draco continued to stare at the arched ceiling, refusing to acknowledge his head of house. Snape tutted under his breath. He began to stride up at down at the end of the bed. Draco was beginning to find his teacher’s impatience irritating.   
“If you are… struggling Draco, tell me. I…” It was clear Snape was choosing his words carefully. Whilst Madame Pomfrey had retreated to her office she was still in hearing distance. “I could help you, with what you are trying to accomplish.”  
“I DON’T NEED HELP” Draco practically roared at him.   
“Clearly. Draco, listen to me-”  
“No, you listen to me. I don’t need help; yours or anyone else’s. I just need…need time.” Snape leaned in a grabbed the collar of Malfoy’s shirt.  
“Time is the last thing we have Draco. The Dark Lord grows impatient.” The professor straightened up. “Think about what I have said Draco.” And with that, he left.   
.  
.  
Harry strode up and down his empty dorm. On his way in via the quite common room he had come into contact with Hermione. He had muttered a “not now” to the barrage of questions and escaped to his room. It was a good job it had been Hermione in the common room not Ron, as she couldn’t follow him up here. Then again, if it had been Ron he would have been too preoccupied by snogging Lavender to notice his blood-stained friend slip past.   
He looked down at his hands. They were smeared with blood; the ‘pure’ blood that Draco was so proud of. It looked no different to any other blood he had seen.   
Sighing with exasperation, Harry pulled off his robes. Dumping them in the basket for some house-elf to clean, he went to have a shower.   
He hadn’t gotten much blood on his skin, but enough to send little pink swirls down the drain. Harry’s mind was buzzing.   
What could have caused Draco to feel so desperate? It must have something to do with why he has been disappearing of the map, why he’s been in the room of requirement. He hasn’t been in meals much either. It’s not surprising he felt so light. It must be more than just worrying about homework and exams. Is he regretting the mark branded to his skin?  
Harry pushed away the last thought. It was absurd to think this wasn’t what Draco had wanted all along. Like father like son, Draco would always have ended up rotten. Evil.   
There was a knock on the door. Ron was back.  
“Harry? Mate? Hermione said you came storming though the common room half an hour ago, covered in blood. What happened?”   
Letting out another sigh, Harry turned off the water. He’d have to face the music now.   
Wrapping his lower half in a towel, Harry left the steamy comfort of the little bathroom and moved into the main part of the dorm. Ron was looking a little pale, though Harry didn’t fail to note his kiss-swollen lips. Harry felt a momentary surge of anger at his best friend, off snogging girls in a corner while he was left to deal with the rest of the world’s shit.   
He took a deep breath. It would do no good to get angry with Ron. After all, it was Draco he really wanted to yell questions at. Harry flopped backwards onto his bed.  
“Mate? You alright?”   
“Yeh. Just had an interesting day, that’s all.” And so, Harry told Ron about how he had seen Draco talking to Myrtle in one of the bathrooms on the marauders map and went to have a nose about. He explained that when he had arrived Draco was alone, and it looked like he had punched a mirror. Once Harry told Ron that it was Draco’s blood he was covered in, not his own, the latter seemed to cheer up. Maybe it was because of this reaction, or just because he knew Draco wouldn’t want the news of his meltdown spreading, but Harry decided to leave the story there. Ron didn’t need to know that he had carried an unconscious Draco to the medical wing, or that he had stayed until he saw Madame Pomfrey seal the wounds with essence of dittany.   
Once Ron seemed satisfied that Harry was indeed alright his disappeared off again, but not before saying “What a nutjob.” It was just as well the door had slammed shut because Harry’s anger at Ron had just surged back. Ron didn’t understand what Draco was going through; he was in no position to judge. But then again, neither did Harry.  
.  
.  
Draco had been discharged from hospital the next day. It was a Sunday, so he didn't have to face lessons thank Merlin.  
Oddly enough Dumbledore hadn't confronted him. Irritatingly however he now had to have weekly meetings with Snape to 'discuss how you're feeling'. What a load of fun that will be…  
As Draco walked round the castle he expected to be dealing with a lot of stares and whispers. He didn't seem to be getting them, no more than normal at least. Potter had had a full day to be spreading rumours after all. How embarrassing. He, a Malfoy of Malfoy manor, heir to a fortune, crying in front of precious harry potter. It was bad enough he had been seen crying at all, but by potter? Ugh.  
Draco had no real desire to see his 'friends' and he had been fed in the medical room. Being a Sunday he had no where he really needed to go. His feet therefore carried him to his usual haunt, the room of requirement. His thoughts were a tangle, explaining why he was well round the corner by the time he noticed Potter leaning against the wall. Draco stopped dead, about 10ft away.  
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked indignantly. More importantly, how did you know I'd be here?  
"Fancied a chat." Harry took his weight of the wall and straightened up. Draco noticed how Potter was a little taller than him now, and defiantly a little broader too. That must be his fault, not eating enough.  
"Not in the mood."  
"So what mood are you in?" Draco stared at Harry. "That definitely came out wrong. It was more of a, about to try again where no-one will find you question?"  
So that's what Potter is doing here, playing the hero.  
"I'm not suicidal Potter. Stop pestering me."  
"I'll stop pestering you if you talk to me."  
"Why? Why does this matter? Me and you are enemies Potter." Harry did seem to have an answer to that, so Draco turned and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco spent the rest of the day wandering the castle. He avoided the seventh floor corridor, but still kept thinking he caught glimpses of Potter out of the corner of his eye. How he was managing to follow him quite so well Draco wasn’t sure, but it put Draco on edge. Maybe he was just paranoid now too.   
It was almost nightfall by the time Draco thought of a new release. He stole quietly into his dorm and back out again, broomstick in hand. The Slytherin knew that flying at night wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but frankly he was bored. He wasn’t yet ready to return to the room of requirement and continue with his mission.  
The air was bitterly cold. It was almost enough to make him turn back, but instead Draco just cast a warming spell and headed for the pitch. Thinking back, it had been a while since Draco had been on his broom. The stress of his mission had led to him missing many practices and even a game. They couldn’t kick him off the team of course, he was a Malfoy.  
Pushing off into the air Draco felt the cold bite harder. His warming charm would do little once he really got going.   
Merlin had he missed flying. When he was younger, not that he’d ever admit it, Draco used to pretend he was not a boy on a broom but a dragon like his namesake. He loved the feeling of freedom it gave him, to go zooming off, above where his mother’s voice could reach him. It was a freedom he had not felt in years.   
Being naïve had been so much better. Draco could fill miles of parchment with the things he wish he didn’t know. He wish he didn’t know his father was a killer; that his old teacher, Charity Burbage, had been tortured and devoured by Nagini; that he would soon have Dumbledore’s blood on his hands or be dead. In that instant however, he just wished he didn’t know there were spells around Hogwarts. He wished he could fly away on this broom and not have to stop.   
These were childish notions of course. His father would scold him if he knew how fanciful Draco was being.   
It wasn’t until Draco felt like icicles were forming on his hands that he finally came down. He landed in a heap, too stiff to be graceful. He recast the warming spell and began to traipse back to the castle. He was just circling around the forbidden forest when he heard voices.   
“It’s just getting worse professor. I don’t think I can go back there again, they didn’t seem too happy to see me. You-know-who has won them all over now.” It was the oaf Hagrid.   
“Not to worry Rubeus, you did what you could. I fear you-know-who is gaining more than just giants. Every day he gets stronger. It is only a matter of time, I fear, until the castle is breached.”  
“You can’t say that Dumbledore! You-know-who would never attack the castle, not while you’re here.”   
“I know my friend, I know.”   
Hagrid and Dumbledore disappeared into the tree line. Something about the brief conversation seemed to unsettle Draco. It sounded as though Dumbledore thought he would die soon, but if that were so why hadn’t he confronted Draco? Did he think that it would be someone else’s hand that would give the final blow? That was silly, other than Snape and himself there were no deatheaters in the castle. Dumbledore couldn’t know he was one of course, but surely he suspected, with that great mind of his? Especially after yesterday’s events…  
.  
.  
Harry had given up keeping tabs on Malfoy around dinner time. He couldn’t say why he felt responsible to make sure he was alright but he did. Hermione seemed to be getting tired off it.   
“Are you even listening to me? What’s gotten into you Harry?”   
“Huh? Oh I’m fine.”  
“You’ve been disappearing off all day; you’ve barely eaten and spoken even less. You’re my best friend Harry, I know when something is bothering you.”  
“I’m fine ‘mione. Stop worrying. Anything new?” Harry nodded towards the Evening Prophet. He didn’t really want to hear the latest doom and gloom, but he didn’t want Hermione nagging him either.   
“Not much. They’ve made another arrest, some shopkeeper in Cokeworth. Apparently had connections to Snape’s family years ago.”   
Harry nodded and picked at the mashed potato on his plate. It didn’t surprise him that Draco wasn’t in the hall. The more he thought about it the more he realised that he hardly ever saw the boy in here. There were other ways to get food of course, but Harry didn’t think Draco was bothering. His cheekbones had defiantly seemed more prominent actually.  
Why am I back to worrying about him? He is a grown man; he can take care of himself.   
The little voice in the back of his mind whispered a ‘can’t he?’ at the end of that thought, but Harry pushed it away realising Hermione was talking again.  
“…don’t know why they can’t just get a room. It pathetic really, subjecting us all to that.” Harry realised that Ron had just arrived, his arm wrapped around a very giggly Lavender who was trying to nibble his ear as they walked. Hermione pushed her food away. “I think I’ll go to the library.” And with that she stormed off.   
Ron noticed that Harry was now on his own and so steered Lavender to where he sat. Harry didn’t feel he particularly wanted to watch their vomit inducing displays of affection either, but with a plate full of food before him he had no way to politely escape.   
“You alright mate?” Ron said, folding himself onto the bench opposite Harry. Lavender slid in after him, so close she was practically on his lap.   
“Yeh. Still got some homework left to do so I ought to go soon.” In truth, Harry had all of his homework left to do. An unproductive day following Malfoy round meant he had two un-started essays due Monday. Ron’s face fell. For a happy moment Harry thought it was because Ron actually wanted to spend some time with him, then he realised this was not quite accurate.  
“I have too. The one for Snape is just impossible! I would ask Hermione but she isn’t talking to me still.”   
Harry bit back the snide comment about it being Ron’s fault they weren’t on speaking terms. Being the friend in the middle was starting to drive him crazy.   
“I guess we could work on them together, up in the common room.” He added the last bit thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to disturb Hermione in her sanctuary. He also left out any mention of Lavender on purpose.   
“That would be great mate. Do you even understand what Snape was going on about?” Harry managed to eat the rest of his dinner, and wait for Ron to finish his, uneventfully. Lavender seemed to grow bored of their conversation on potions so turned to talk to Parvati. They were standing to leave when Ron said:  
“I think we ought to go to the library. I’ve got no chance on this essay without some dull book to explain it to me.” Knowing it would probably set Ron off if he explained his reasons for avoiding it he nodded, hoping they could get in and out without incident.   
.  
.  
Harry had never particularly liked the library. He thought it was the way that books seemed to eat sounds, making it always muffled. The dust too didn’t help much either. He preferred working in the warm and airy common room, up in the tower. He was just looking up from Plants of the Tasmanian Forest when he saw a head of white blonde hair dart past the end of the row. Putting the book down he muttered a lame “Bathroom” to Ron and walked quickly after him.   
Looking down each row in turn, he saw Malfoy ducking into the restricted section towards the back. Curious, Harry followed. Draco was reading the spines of the books. He had started halfway down, making it look like he was just continuing his search. Pausing, Draco pulled a heavy, leather bound book off the shelves. Resting it on the ledge, he began to leaf through the pages.  
Harry stood transfixed. It was almost as though he was looking at someone else. Sure, he was still handsome with blonde hair and a grey tinge to his face, but the wild look was gone. He looked calm, methodical. Back in control. The Slytherin shut the book, slid it back onto the shelf and continued down the line. A moment later he paused and pulled out another one. After flicking through a few more pages, he paused. The barest hint of a smile crossed his face.   
Draco pulled out his wand and muttered a copying spell, moving the words onto a scrap of parchment. Draco folded the parchment into his pocket and replaced the book. Harry had to hurriedly hide behind the next isle as the blonde boy left.   
Once Draco was out of sight Harry snuck back round. He pulled out the book he thought Draco had been looking at. Defensive Objects for avoiding the Dark arts. It was a slim book, published during the first wizarding war. Why had it been of interest to Draco? And why was it in the restricted section?   
Harry slipped the book inside his robes and went back to Ron. He’d have time to look at it later.   
.  
.  
Hermione saw Draco slip out of the restricted section and frowned. He looked happy, and that couldn’t mean anything good. Just as she was thinking this she saw Harry slip out too. This deepened her frown. What was Harry up to now?  
.  
.  
In five days’ time it would be Slughorn’s Christmas party. Harry had thus far been putting the idea out of his mind, having more pressing matters to deal with. It wasn’t until Hermione cornered him at breakfast Monday morning that he realised the predicament he was in.   
“They are getting desperate Harry, I heard Romilda Vane talking about slipping you a love potion. You need to get a date and soon.” Harry nodded, his mouth full of cereal. Hermione looked like there was something else she wanted to discuss, but at that point Ron entered. Yet again, Hermione vanished. Before Ron and Lavender could reach him someone else slid into Hermione’s vacated seat.  
Speak of the devil…   
Romilda leaned in towards Harry. She practically purred his name.  
“Harry, I was wondering when I’d get to talk to you. I was thinking that me and you could maybe go for a walk this evening?” She reached over to touch the back of Harry’s hand, providing him with a view right down her cleavage. Harry coughed and looked up.  
“Sorry I have… er… plans for tonight. Can’t.”  
“But Harry-”  
“Sorry.” Harry stood to leave but Romilda kept hold of his hand.   
“At least take these with you.” She pulled a box of chocolate cauldrons from nowhere and pressed them into his hand. Harry nodded stiffly and made for the exit, making a mental note not to touch the chocolates.  
Harry nodded at Ron as he made his escape. He power walked out of the Great Hall and straight into Malfoy.   
“Oi watch it! Oh it’s you. What do you want Potter?” Harry was still flustered from his encounter with Romilda and couldn’t get any words out. “What’s the matter? Weasel got your tongue?” Draco was sneering at Harry.   
“Back to your cocky, irritating self I see.” Draco frowned.  
“Back to your meddlesome, obnoxious cloud of self-righteousness I see. Oh wait, you never left it, did you?” Harry was struck by the urge to punch Draco right then. He might have done too, had Snape not materialised at that point.   
“It’s time for your session Draco. I don’t recommend you keep me waiting.”  
“I’ve told you, I don’t want to talk to you.” Draco’s voice had gone so icy cold that Harry actually shivered.   
“You’d rather talk to Potter?” At that, Malfoy shot Harry a glare that said ‘this is all your fault’  
“I have nothing to talk about.”  
“Trust me, I hardly like the situation Draco, but you talk to me or you talk to Dumbledore.”  
“Dumbledore doesn’t keep Veritaserum in the inner pockets of his robes.”  
“Stop acting like a child and making a scene. My office, 5 minutes.” Snape swept off towards the dungeons.   
Harry felt a little uncomfortable having been forced to ear wig into that conversation. He felt he ought to say something at least.  
“If you don’t want to talk to him you could talk to me. I don’t keep Veritaserum in my robes.”   
Shit. That wasn’t what I meant to say at all. What a rubbish joke that was, why the hell did I just open my mouth?  
Draco looked a little shocked. He didn’t say anything as he turned away, but Harry thought he saw another of those tiny smiles play with his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

The week had been a long one. Harry received so much homework and, with what he had neglected over the weekend, he had not yet had time to look over Draco's book. He was thoroughly looking forward to the Christmas break mere days away.

First however, he must get through Slughorn's party. He had put some more thought into what Hermione had said and had ended up blurting an invitation out to Luna. Whilst he'd rather he didn't have to take Luna, he thought it could have ended much worse. It could have been Romailda.

It could have been Draco. Not that he would ever had agreed to accompany Harry – not that Harry would ever ask – but Harry thought it might have done Draco some good. Clearly he was stressed out; a little bit of festive cheer would have been just the thing.

Harry hadn't properly seen Draco since their meeting with Snape. He had glimpsed him once or twice, but whenever Draco saw him an angry blush swept his face and he quickly vanished.

The marauders map had come in useful. Harry found it oddly soothing to know that Draco was in bed and not doing anything crazy at 2 am. It had only begun to dawn on Harry, as his eyes roamed the hall half-heartedly, that he was becoming a little obsessed.

Maybe it's just my mind trying to distract me? There have been no more lessons with Dumbledore for a while. The war is getting closer, but everyone wants to ignore that fact. 

.

 

.

He was finally getting somewhere. Admittedly the little bird had come back dead, but it had come back. It was only a small victory however, he wasn't anywhere near ready yet.

The young deatheater felt an odd pang of pity for the bird. Like him, it had never truly gotten to fly.

Dammit. Where is all this bloody sentimentally coming from? I haven't got time for it. Potter's got me on edge, damn him. I can only avoid him for so long. I need to finish this. I need to.

Draco tossed the small bird aside and plucked another from its cage. He put the bird into the cabinet and tried again.

.

 

.

He's off the map again. 

Whilst Harry had finally worked out where Draco was going he still had no idea what he was up to. Well now was as good a time as any, he had a couple of hours before he had to meet Luna. Harry detoured to his dorm, picked up the invisibility cloak just in case, and left the common room quickly. It wasn't far to the fifth floor corridor.

There was no one on lookout duty. It seemed Draco had given up on turning Crabbe into a girl and positioning him by the door. Oh well, it meant more peace for Harry to try and get in.

Pacing back and forth, Harry tried yet again to gain entry.

I need the place where Draco is.

I need the place where Draco is.

I need the place where Draco is. 

Unsurprisingly it didn't work. Harry suspected he had tried that one before too, but he had tried so many times he had forgotten. No, he'd have to come up with something new. Harry racked his brain for ideas. It was clear that Draco was up to something, something to do with Borgin and Burkes. It was also clear that whatever it was was difficult, but that didn't help much either. Grunting with frustration, Harry aimed a kick at the wall. This would be so much easier if Draco would talk to him, but no, he insists on hiding it all away. Hiding. Maybe Draco was merely hiding in the room, using it as a sanctuary?

I need the place that Draco is hidden.

I need the place that Draco is hidden.

I need the place that Draco is hidden.

To Harry's shock, a door materialised. With a deep breath, he slipped inside. The room was dim and musty with teetering piles of junk. To Harry's left rose a huge mound of broken chairs, graffiti-covered desks and a cracked chamber pots with many small trinkets buried within. The room seemed as big as the great hall. Stone arched reached right to the gloomy heavens. Cautiously the dark haired boy moved further into the room. It was a feast for the eyes.

Mounds of battered books balanced against a chipped statue. What looked like a blood stained axe rested against a muggle gramophone. There was a big bird's cage containing the skeleton of a strange twisted thing. Turning and turning in wonder, Harry let his eyes roam over so many untold stories.

Draco heard a noise. It was the unmistakable noise of a door slamming. Heart hammering in his throat, Draco crept away from the cabinet. It would not do for him to be caught by it, or to be caught at all. He must pray he could slip out of the room unseen.

Harry heard a noise. It was a footstep. He stopped marvelling at the wonders around him and pulled on his cloak. Chances were, Draco would be coming this way in order to escape. Breathing heavily he waited and it was not long before he saw that shock of brilliant blonde hair. Draco was looking around cautiously. His eyes looked a little wild, like a caged animal. Deciding it was clear, he made a break for the door, hurtling head first into Harry.

The boys collapsed in a heap on the floor. Draco tried to get up but Harry grabbed his ankle. The Slytherin grappled with his invisible foe, kicking to get free. Shaking hands rummaged in his pocket.

"Stupefy!" The hand around his ankle stiffened. Draco sat up and pulled the cloak away. Potter. "What the hell are you doing?!" Malfoy was literally growling at Harry, who was unable to speak due to the charm. Malfoy was in half a mind to leave him there, stunned, as he had done on the train. He would like to see precious Potter escape that one. He couldn't though, not least because his foot was trapped in his frozen grip.

Fuming, Draco lifted the charm. He kept his wand trained on Harry and began to ask questions.

"How did you get in here?"

"Same way you did."

"Do you know why I'm in here?"

"Not exactly."

"Have you told mudblood and weasel?"

"No."

The last response surprised him. It was unlike Potter to go anywhere without his backup. Still, maybe he was lying.

"Have you been following me?"

"Yes."

That was also a surprise. Whilst Draco knew the boy was tailing him he hadn't expected him to own up to that one.

"Why?"

"You've got me worried."

Draco snorted. He was definitely lying then.

"Why do you always have to play the hero?"

"Because sometimes people need a hero. It's not a role I really chose, it's just other people don't often see themselves capable of it." Draco felt the temptation to leave Harry stunned in the room again, there wasn't anything stopping him now. He also felt the temptation to puke over his typical, Gryffindor words.

"Grow up Potter, not everyone can be saved."

"They can."

"Even me? Even the Dark Lord?!" Draco's voice was louder, he was suddenly shouting at Potter. Without even flinching, Harry just stared back. "Why aren't you scared?! Is it because you're 'The Boy Who Lived'? Because I've got news for you: everyone dies. You, me, everyone. And your death gets closer every day!"

"You don't scare me Draco."

"What?"

"You don't scare me." Draco was flushed and breathing hard. He felt insulted, enraged. How dare Potter insult him like that. He was a Malfoy, and he would not, could not, tolerate that. He yelled the first curse that came to mind.

"Sectumsempra!" The air rushed out of Harry. He grunted in pain as his leg began to bleed copiously. The gentle growing of the puddle transfixed Draco, a red lake consuming the stone floor. A whimper escaped Harry's mouth. He was clutching his leg, trying to slow the flow of blood. It brought Draco back to the present, back to the horror of what he had just done.

The broken reflection of Harry's face drifted into his mind. Is this how pitiful he had looked to the other boy? When he had been the one bleeding on to the floor?

Draco took a step back. He couldn't cope with this. Hurtling from the room, Draco went in search of Snape. He was the one who taught him the curse, he must know the anti-curse. He must.

All Harry saw was a frightened Draco, fleeing, leaving him to bleed out and die. It wasn't long before the pain caused him to black out, but even then he thought of Draco. He couldn't blame him for this. Voldemort was the one who had twisted him so, so Harry would make sure Voldemort paid.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry spent much of the next week in the hospital wing. There was little Madame Pomfrey could do to stop the flow of blood; she had been forced to resort to muggle methods and bind his leg in bandages. He had received several visitors: an irate Hermione and shocked Ron, McGonagall, and then Dumbledore, wanting to know what had happened. Harry maintained the same story for all of them - he had been in the room of requirement when something attacked him and the next thing he knew he was here. Fortunately Snape was yet to call him a liar. Unfortunately, Slughorn has delayed his party until Harry was recovered. That didn't seem likely to happen before the Christmas break however.

A small part of him had hoped Draco would have visited, just to see he was alright. He hadn't, of course. Draco had been hiding in the Slytherin dorms for the better part of the week. On the most part he had been left alone. There had been one disastrous visit from Pansy at whom he had yelled and threatened to curse, which put an end to the visitors. Even the other boys he shared a room with had mysteriously found other places to stay; they understood not to cross a Malfoy.

He was struggling to understand how he felt about giving Potter a near death experience. It was a tornado within his head. What if I had killed him? The Dark Lord would have skinned me alive. And what if he talks? Dumbledore will kick me out in an instant and the Dark Lord would kill me, slowly and painfully. What if someone finds out what I was doing? It would mean a whole year down the drain, and another delay in his rise to power.

Inevitably his thoughts kept returning to the imminent demise he was now certain of. In a way, he found thinking of his death better than listening to the little whispers in the back of his mind.

Why is he protecting me?

Draco knew that Snape had been able to do enough to get him to the medical wing. He knew that Harry had survived the ordeal. That was it however. No Slytherin would have cared enough to find out how Potter was recovering, not that he would have asked. It was driving him crazy. Grabbing an ink well from the bedside table, Draco hurled it across the room. It smashed and ran down the wall.

The sudden act of violence had not given him the release he had hoped for, instead he stared at the ink stain seeing blood. It had surprised him in truth, Harry's blood had looked no different from his own. He knew logically there should have been no difference but in his head there was.

The ink gave Draco another idea. He would write to Potter. If he went to the owlery at night he might still be able to find an owl. No one would ever have to know.

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Sun was filtering into the room. The blonde head gave a sudden start upwards as the sun roused him. He had been scribbling, sighing, and crunching paper into a ball all night. It had gotten him nowhere. Draco felt he needed to say something, but there was nothing he could think of that didn't sound petty or pitiful on paper, or worst of all something that sounded unbefitting of a Malfoy. How could he express concern without expressing feelings? Exactly.

In the cold light of dawn Draco felt like nothing more than a fool.

There was only two days of term left now. Having hidden out for the last two days of school he knew he would be pushing his luck to skip the next two as well. It was time to grow up.

Act like a real Malfoy.

It was eerie how his voice sounded like his fathers.

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Harry was bored. Madame Pomfrey had insisted that he stayed until the end of term time despite the fact he could now move round, albeit slowly. Ron and Hermione dropped in between lessons, bearing chocolate frogs.

"Hiya mate." Ron collapsed into a chair and ripped the head off a frog and spoke thickly. "You ain't missing much in school. 'Cept homework. Heck of a lot of homework. These are from Ginny by the way, but felt you'd had enough chocolate." He nodded towards the pile of chocolate at the foot of Harry's bed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I saw Slughorn talking to Madame Pomfrey. He was trying to organise a party in here by the sound of it."

"Merlin's beard! He doesn't stop. He bought me crystallised pineapple the other day and asked when I'd be up to a party."

"How are you feeling? Is your memory coming back, about what attacked you?" The concern in Hermione's voice was strong.

"Oh give him a break Hermione. There could be anything creeping round in this school, giant snakes and spiders ring any bells?"

There was an awkward silence as they all tried to think of something to say. Ron opened another chocolate frog and swore as it jumped away under a bed. He let it go.

"Everyone is pretty spooked. I mean they do that thing where all the first years move in huddles you can't get round. Even Malfoy had been acting weird." Ron blurted out. That caught Harry's attention. He had in fact being trying to think of a way to bring up this very subject.

"How so?" He said cautiously.

"Barely been out of his room. Even been skiving off lessons he seems so scared which ain't normal. The scared bit I mean, it's no shocker he is skipping lessons."

"Maybe he knows more that he is letting on?" Pondered Hermione

"No," Harry said a little too quickly. "I mean, that seems unlikely."

"Let's not bother brewing Polyjuice again, hey?" Ron said snidely.

"You alright mate? You're being sarcastic, more than normal."

"I'm fine. I mean it's nothing compared to what you're going through is it?" Harry looked over at Hermione, confused. She looked plain irritated.

"Won-Won and Lav-Lav have had a falling out. I refuse to get involed." Ron flushed red as his hair and scowled. Harry laughed. He had missed them when they hadn't been speaking and even bickering was better than the stony silence he had endured for the last couple of months. The pair didn't laugh with him, but there expressions did soften.

"I'm glad to see you're alright mate. You really did get us worried." Harry smiled and chucked another chocolate frog at Ron. There was an excited yell and another frog hopped out of sight. Ron was on his feet waving a card in Harry's face.

"I've got him! I've got him! Cornelius Agrippa! Do you remember Harry, the first day we meet? I said he was one of two I still didn't have, and now he is the last! Haha! I've got them all!" Ron was causing such a commotion that Madame Pomfrey came rushing out. There was nothing she could say however to stop Harry and Hermione roaring with laughter and Ron's childlike enthusiasm.

From outside the high doors Malfoy heard the muffled outburst and the waves of laughter which followed. He pulled his had away from the handle.

Fool. Potter wouldn't want to see you. Not with weaselbee and mudblood in there. Not ever.

Draco turned away and began to stride back towards the dungeons. He was halfway down the corridor when a voice stopped him.

"Draco wait! You dropped something." It was Loony Lovegood, clutching a crumpled bit of paper. Her eyes grew wide as she read the words and with a sinking feeling deep in his stomach, Draco realised it was one of the crumpled letters he had written last night.

Malfoy stormed towards Luna, fury in his eyes.

"You have no right" he spat at her "No right whatsoever to be reading that." He tore the letter from her grasp and set fire to it with the tip of his wand. Then he turned back to her, pulling up to his full imposing height. "You didn't see that. If so much as a whisper of this finds its way to Potter I will personally see to it that your life is a living hell." Luna seemed unfazed.

"Why would I tell Harry? Whilst I think it's lovely that you feel this way about him, what good would it do for Harry to hear it from me?" Dear god, it was one of the stupid gushing letters. Why the hell hadn't it been a simple 'hope you're alright' one? I am so royally fucked now.

Had Luna been anyone else she would have laughed at the way Draco's red face clashed with his silver hair. Being Luna however she merely smiled and skipped back to the medical wing leaving a stunned Draco in the corridor.

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"Hello Harry." Luna's blonde head had just bounded into the medical wing. She seemed to be in a remarkably good mood.

"Hey Luna, what's up?"

"I have a letter for you, from Dumbledore. He asked me to make sure it got to you. Ooh is that crystallised pineapple?" Harry nodded at her to help herself as he tore open the letter.

I see you are staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, I think a little lesson would not go amiss. Please come to my room on the 20th at Nine O'clock, providing you are feeling well enough. Wishing you a swift recovery, Dumbledore.

"A lesson over Christmas? It's been ages since my last lesson, I wonder why now." Harry kept his voice low so that Luna wouldn't hear over the pineapple chewing.

"He has been away a lot, maybe he has found something new?"

"Maybe. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

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It felt great to be out of the medical wing. He had been in there just over a week and was beginning to feel stifled. Hermione was going home for the Christmas holidays to visit her parents, but Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna were all staying. Lavender had been planning to stay too but had changed her mind last minute, a fact for which Harry was eternally grateful.

The whole school was peacefully quite. Fewer people than normal had stayed this year, possibly because of Harry's attack, but it did mean no one scolded them for letting Luna into the Gryffindor common room. They were playing exploding snap, boys against girls. Somehow, he and Ron were losing spectacularly.

Luna's high spirits had remained all week, but no one really stopped to question it. She was just being Luna and the festive season was drawing close. They were so involved in their game however that it was five to nine before Ron nudged Harry in the ribs. Harry leapt up.

"I am… uh… going for a walk! I'll be back later."


End file.
